


Like a Lamb

by Grumpyhugs



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Basically anything expected of Dark Souls, Death, Developing Relationship, Graphic Description, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 13:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpyhugs/pseuds/Grumpyhugs
Summary: RE-UPLOAD OF PREVIOUS STORY. The Chosen Undead finds a golden knight locked away in a cell. He frees him, but the Golden knight isn't too happy about it.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-upload as promised of my original fic. This new one will be longer and I have actually added more to Lautrec's story. Sister and I were discussing Dark Souls 3 and then I had an idea. You'll see what I mean as the fic progresses!

How long? How long did he have until he Hollowed? 

Erethan couldn't tell how much time had passed anymore. He guessed weeks, but it felt so much longer. 

He died, then woke up in a cell.

Did his murderers bring his body here, when his own Dark Sign appeared? Did they throw him here anyway? He'd never know. 

Even in his small village, everyone knew about the asylum. It was unspoken of until someone died, then talk of having to make the trip took over. No one wanted an Undead among the living. His mother told him they were mindless  creatures in the shape of a human. People tried to live among them, but then the killing started. When Hollowed, an Undead will attack the living; until either the Hollow or the living are dead. They were a danger. So, all Undead were brought to an asylum in the mountains where they Hollow alone. Hollowing meant losing your humanity. It meant losing your ties to staying sane, your purpose after death. There was no purpose to have here. 

He laid his head against the wall, waiting for the inevitable. A cruel fate, he huffed to himself. No doubt his murderers were laughing to themselves back home; he had a good idea of who it was or they were- 

 

Something above him broke, metal snapped and as he looked up to see what happened, a body fell with a sick crunch in front of him. The sound of a thin metal clanked against the stone floor, a key hooked around the neck of the corpse shone in the light from above. He looked up, a knight  clad in steel armour stared back at him. The knight nodded and left him without a word.

Erethan crawled to the body and pulled the key off it's neck, it's head coming off as he tugged the string the key was on. "Ugh." He was undead, but the body was still disgusting. 

 

The key could only have one purpose here. 

He stood up and ran to the door of his cell and placed the key in the lock, to his surprise it clicked open immediately. 

He paid no attention to his surroundings, the stomping and heavy breathing nearby did not slow him in running as fast as he could down the hallway and outside.

If he was alive, the rush of fresh, cold air would hit him. Alas, he was very well near Hollow, and didn't feel a thing. He had climbed up a rusted ladder into a small courtyard. The grass was nearly dead, with a thin layer of snow on it. The stone making up the area was full of cracks and visibly worn down. The asylum was never meant to be maintained. Ahead lay a bonfire and great rusted doors; at the bonfire a suit of armor, a shield and longsword sat behind it.

Erethan only had the clothes on his back when he came here. They were barely clothes now, mostly filthy rags he kept on himself. Perhaps the knight left this for him, too? 

He wasted no time on getting the armour on. There were Hollows around the area still, and the unknown. The bonfire was not lit, and he wondered if he could use it as the tales told. Undead, before they Hollowed, could use bonfires to come back to life and to rest at. They had the ability to light them, albeit weakly. A Firekeeper is required to make a stronger bonfire - humans who were tied to the flame forever. Each human had a tie to flame, but a Firekeeper  _ was _ the flame. He raised his hand to the bonfire, and with a sudden flash of fire it came to life under him. Flames crackled around the base, lighting up the sword. Specks of ash fluttered into air, and a warmth rushed to his body. Erethan smiled, it works. 

Death was something he wanted to avoid, but what if he did come back to life here? He would have to test it, sometime soon. But not here, not at the asylum. He had to find the knight, first. 

The doors in front of him were the next place to go; the small courtyard he was in had no visible exists, beyond a locked cell door to the right. It had a lock like his own cell, he would need a key to open it from the other side. 

Moving around with the heavy armour on, which looked much like the knight’s minus the helm and some emblems, proved to be a bit difficult. He felt much slower; even if he wasn’t very tired due to Undeath, he knew he would have to sacrifice movement for defense. He walked up to the mighty doors and pushed, they lurched open with a loud creak. 

He looked around the room; there was nothing. Tall vases littered the room, some on their side and cracked and many stood tall. The floor of bricks had cracks in it and dips in the elevation; the floor didn’t look that safe to step on in the middle of the room. He walked slowly, still watching his surroundings. 

A gust of wind drew his attention, he looked up. A large demon wielding a great hammer, larger than Erethan landed in front of him.

He had never used anything other than a small dagger and bow for hunting, but he knew he had to raise his shield to block the swing the demon was winding up. The thought that the last time he used a bow was in his previous life crossed his mind; would one even work against such a monster here? 

The demon snarled, the hammer connected with his shield and sent him flying back. He crashed to the ground, his armour banging against the floor and his body. Rising to his feet quickly, the pain in his back was nothing to what the demon could do if he wasn’t careful.

He held his shield in front of him once more, but noticed it had a large dent in the middle now; the shield couldn’t keep doing this. The demon wound up for another swing, he watched the hammer fly to its side; but something behind the demon caught his attention, an open door!

 

The hammer flew over his head as he rolled underneath it, and sprinted to the door. With a loud crash, the door fell shut behind him. The demon stared behind it, if it could express anger, he didn’t know. The monster simply watched him.

 

He ran as fast as he could away from it, knowing he would have to deal with it soon again. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“Ser, please. I’m tired and you’re hurting my wrist.” 

Lautrec sighed and released his grip on her. He had hoped to be at the parish already, but the damned woman was so  _ slow  _ and constantly needed to rest. She walked over to the old stair before them and sat down, fidgeting with her auburn hair. The bun she had tied earlier kept coming undone, she was always fixing it whenever they sat down. It was annoying him, watching her constantly doing this. Despite being a firekeeper, she tried to keep appearances up. When they’d pass through towns or by merchants, she’d always make him buy make-up and the like. 

“Hurry up, woman. We should’ve been there already, but you keep stopping me.” 

Her fair features turned harder at him, “Stopping  _ YOU _ ? What about me! You keep dragging me around everywhere, I can’t even feel my fire anymore!” 

“That’s not my problem,” with a groan and slump of his shoulders he answered, “This is a bit more important than your fire, my lady.” 

She crossed her arms and pouted, “It is about me, it’s always about me, Lautrec. I’m the firekeeper, and you’re the knight. You shouldn’t be dragging me around all of Lordran, you should be protecting me at my bonfire back in Carim.” 

This was starting to test his patience with her, “You’d best stop snapping at me, Katrina. I’m getting tired of this,” he growled. 

She stuck her tongue at him in total mockery, “Blah blah, Lautrec. I’m tired of following you around!”

Under his helm, the corner of his lip turned into a crooked smile. With an outstretched hand to the firekeeper, in a gentle tone he said, “You won’t have to follow me anymore, soon. Come, my lady.” 

She stood up and took his hand and gripped it, “Good, let’s hurry up.”

“Let’s.” 

Lautrec laughed softly. Katrina didn’t hear. 

 


	2. Escape

“I can save you!”

Oscar coughed weakly in response, “I’m done for, don’t worry about me. My task is done.”

Erethan shook his head, “I am worried! You’re going to die here and go Hollow – and you just accept that? We can leave, together!” He reached for the knight’s arm, but before he could even touch Oscar, his head lolled to the side; his entire body slumping with it. Gone.

“Oscar?”

No response. He was dead already, but disbelief was cruel.

His first lesson since becoming Undead; this un-life would be unfair to him at every opportunity.

Before Oscar’s death, he’d told Erethan of the asylum demon and a prophecy involving a Chosen Undead. Oscar believed that Chosen was him. He’d been freeing Undead from the asylum for a while now, venturing from and to Lordran. None had survived past the demon. He was truly glad Erethan had at least made it this far.

That wasn’t the end though, the demon was still well and alive below. It held the key to leaving the asylum. Erethan would have to kill it.

Oscar gave him a key to the upper part of the asylum, the way forward.

In life, he was nothing more than a village boy. His mother was the village’s alchemist, most of his work with anything close to a weapon was cutting herbs for his mother’s patients. Now he would have to use a sword and shield against an actual demon. The most life-threatening beast he’d seen before was a bear, at most. Now he’d be fighting something the size of several bears, with a massive mace.

Second less of Lordran; demons.

He’d heard tales of Izalith back home. The city engulfed by flame, turned into demon ruins. The people horribly mutated into monsters of Chaos that cared only to kill. The viilagefolk always said to never speak ill of the Gods of Lordran, but… Izalith was a stain upon their legacy that no one would soon forget.

With a loud gulp he pressed on. Up the stairs from Oscar’s resting place, a Hollow stood guard. He dispatched it easily, and found more outside. The wretched things fell almost immediately from a swing or two of his sword. They wore nothing but rags and barely had actual weapons. Most used broken swords that were barely hilts, and the archers were not a threat with his shield.

A great wall of fog lay before him; he could hear the demon breathing heavily behind it. He stepped through and lept. 

 

* * *

  
  


Katrina screamed. At him. Again. “There are Hollows EVERYWHERE, Lautrec! Father was right about you, I should never have taken you as my Knight! You’re supposed to be protecting me back at HOME, not dragging me out into the middle of nowhere and shoving me around! There are filthy Undead EVERYWHERE!”

Lautrec ground his teeth to keep from snapping back at the horrible woman. Patience, he hummed to himself. Patience. They were at Her shrine, this will be over soon. 

“Don’t ignore me! I want to go back, NOW.”

“BE. QUIET.” He snarled, whipping his head back to face her.

Her eyes were wide and locked on something above.

He followed, and there stood a very large human with three pairs of eyes on a large helm above them. The creature was clad in a long armoured blue robe, with gold accents. It made a noise completely inhuman, and danced, holding a trident larger than itself high, as it wobbled from side to side. There was noise of footsteps now. Many of them. 

Lautrec grabbed his shotels.This thing was casting  _ something. _ Calling something. Katrina did not move. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him; she did not make a sound; her eyes were still locked with the thing above. She did not move. 

 

He had done this a few times in their travels and knew when this was over she would, as usual, scream at him incessantly, but there was no time for arguing. A shield was not in his style, protecting her would be too difficult. There was another option.

 

Katrina did not scream when he plunged the shotel into her chest. Nothing but a silent gasp escaped her lips as she slumped to the ground, and her body faded away. In his hands was a Firekeeper soul. 

Before he could tuck it away for safekeeping, something hit him in the back of the head; he fell forward onto the stone floor. He peered up at Her statue, and with another hit to his head, the world fell dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna try to update this weekly. :) ...Emphasis on try. Uni has me on crunch time until the end of November. Thanks for reading!


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